Strings
by queen-sheep
Summary: [for theotherthompson] Yamamoto has always been able to see strings around his fingers. They all connect somewhere, except for the red one on his pinky that extends off into the distance. 8059


_Written for theotherthompson. Thanks so much for helping me overcome writers block and inspiring me to keep writing! You're such a lovely person! Hope you enjoy, and Merry Christmas! Sorry I kinda sorta used your prompt very vaguely. Ish. To be honest I completely forgot about it. _

* * *

The teacher is droning about math somewhere at the front of the classroom, and its times like these that Yamamoto's glad he's seated somewhere inconspicuous. He can nap and relax all he wants without punishment.

Just in case though, his textbook is propped up in front of him, and his notebook is spread out, blank, in front of him. He rests his head on his arm, closing his eyes as his breathing evens out.

But not even the steady monotonous voice of the teacher and the ache in his limbs allow him to fall asleep. Letting out a quiet sigh, he slowly opens his eyes again, fixing his gaze on his right hand; and slowly, he moves his fingers absently, watching the colours twist and turn.

Red, orange, blue, indigo, and purple. The strings loop around his fingers, all different colours of the rainbow, all different lengths. It skips a couple colours of the rainbow, but he supposes it would've looked a bit odd to have it double up on fingers.

Everyone has them, always wrapped around their right hand, from the moment of birth, to the moment of death.

Only he can see them though.

-X-

"_Look!" someone says, pointing to the rainbow spread above their heads. "It's a rainbow!"_

_The children on the playground immediately scramble to look around them. Cries and shouts can be heard as they, one by one, discover the rainbow. _

"_I can see it!" Yamamoto says. "It's so colourful! Just like the strings on our hands!"_

_The children frown at him a bit, lowering their gazes from the sky to him. "What do you mean?"_

_He tilts his head, puzzled. "You know, these," he says, opening his palm and thrusting it out at them. "See?"_

"_Yamamoto-kun… there's nothing on your hand…"_

"_Eh?"_

-X-

They don't exist in the material world.

He once tried to cut it, to see what would happen. The scissors passed right through, as though it didn't exist. Yet at the same time, the strings never pass right through people. They bend and twist regularly on material objects like normal strings would. They're weird, something supernatural, and he's long since stopped questioning it.

Some are temporary, and some have been there his entire life, but they're always there, always visible.

Sometimes, Yamamoto can see the person it connects to. And sometimes, they extend far off into the distance, and he wonders who's on the other end. Sometimes, he wants to go there. Sometimes, he wonders who he'll find on the other side. Maybe a foreigner, who doesn't speak a lick of Japanese? Or perhaps it's just someone just at the other end of Japan, and they might meet by coincidence some day?

He doesn't know, and he's scared to find out.

They deviate from the classic Japanese tale of the fated red string. Not that it's wrong; there really _is_ a red string – right on his pinky— but there are others too, and those ones are the interesting ones.

The blue one connects right back to his father; and it's the one he likes best. The string is tied right around his thumb, with a neat little bow for decoration as well. He's always been able to see where the blue one goes. It's a reassuring presence, like the thought of home.

It connects right to his relatives hands too, so it hadn't been hard to figure out what it represented.

It's one of the strings that never disappear.

-X-

"_Daddy, where's your red string gone? You don't have one?"_

_His father pauses in what he was doing, looking down at him. He gives him a light smile, a sad one, then reaches down to ruffle his hair fondly. _

"_Daddy's red string is gone now," he says. _

"_Where's it gone?"_

"_Somewhere I can't reach."_

-X-

It was the day of his first baseball match that he realized what the indigo string meant. Because extending from his index finger, straight to the members of the opposing side, was that bright colour.

Soon after the match ended though, the link between them disappeared.

The next match, the same thing happened again .The string that connected them appeared, and disappeared after the match.

Yamamoto puzzled through the facts. He wasn't smart, not by a long shot, but he had some pretty good instincts.

Eventually, he drew his conclusion.

The indigo string represents rivalries with other people, and that's why it was one of the constantly changing strings.

Beside that one, on his middle finger, lies the purple string. This one is also constantly shifting and changing. It's a bit of an odd one, to be honest. It seems to be something like the people he influences? It connects to his dad and the members of the baseball team, and a bunch of other people, but it's rather vague and confusing, and he generally doesn't think much of it.

And then, on his ring finger is the orange string. He rather likes this one as well. The colour is warm and soothing, and connects to his friends. It was how he found Tsuna, who is kind hearted and gentle if anyone bothered to get to know him.

Which leaves the last one on his pinky finger: the red string of fate.

It's all rather overused, and it's always been the one he feels the least for. Because this string is the only one with a singular thread, and this one stretches far in the distance, disappearing into the horizon. It's always felt foreign to him, despite being there since birth.

In particular, his own red string moves around a lot. It bobs up and down, swinging to the left or right on any given day. It's rather curious. His fated person must like travelling a lot, he thinks to himself.

The strings have always been part of his life, and he isn't sure whether he hates or loves them.

-X-

_He learns how to ignore them. They're still there—they always are— but they linger at the edge of his vision, unnoticed. _

_He doesn't focus on them anyone, not like when he was a kid and all his attention was drawn to them. They're something that's _there_, but he doesn't really acknowledge anyone. _

_What good does it do anyone?_

-X-

He meets Gokudera Hayato in junior high. He's a bit unusual, an existence full of contradictions.

He's loud and brash, with the air of a street thug and enough explosives to wipe a large part of Namimori off the map. Yet he also has the face of an aristocrat; all high cheekbones and smooth silver hair and turquoisegreenblue eyes that change colour in the light. Gokudera is effortlessly intelligent, able to calculate equations in seconds, and learn languages like it's nothing.

He's also unfalteringly honest.

He's the opposite of Yamamoto, who lies to himself and tricks others and hides behind bright smiles and idiocy.

And he's interesting, so he hangs around him and Tsuna; and he watches. At first, it's simple. A quick glance from the corner of his eyes when the other isn't looking. Watching his little habits and intricacies.

But then Yamamoto continues watching for a long time after that initial observation. He watches and laughs and gets closer to him.

"Oi, baseball idiot. What the fuck are you looking at?"

He laughs. "Nothing."

The other makes an irritated noise at him, and goes back to what he was doing. Yamamoto's smile lingers on his face as they walk side by side.

It's then that Yamamoto realizes he can't take his eyes off Gokudera anymore.

-X-

He chances a glance at Gokudera's hands one day, focusing on the strings he knows will be there.

He can't help it; he's been dying of curiosity, and this is what'll sooth it. His eyes focus in on the red one, and slowly, agonizingly, he follows its path.

It's lying on the table they're seated at in Tsuna's room, and it makes its way to the opposite end right to where—

Oh.

His eyes land on his hand, and he can feel his breath hitch and his chest tighten.

_Oh._

He's found his fated person after all.

Placing his arms on the table, he leans forward towards Gokudera. His heart is pounding so loud in his ears that he can barely think.

"Hey," he says. "What do you think of the red string of fate?"

Gokudera scoffs at him. "A myth," he says.

"Really?" Yamamoto grins. "Cause I think you and I are connected by it."

"Don't say such idiotic things!" Gokudera splutters at him. "There's no way that's true!"

He simply laughs at that, too giddy to care. He has time, after all.


End file.
